Like the words of the famous song Alice’s Restaurant today’s prescription drug addict “You can get anything you want at Alice’s Restaurant”. Why risk getting arrested and possibly spending any time in jail when you can go to a variety of doctors and easily get prescriptions for Xanax, Celexa, Zyprexa, Ambien, Wellbutrin, Zoloft, Paxil, Oxycotin, etc….. After all it’s legal.

Thanks to our pill cure obsessed society along with the greed of Big Pharma who consistently bribes most physicians to distribute their pills like they were M&Ms in the Candy Shop to unsuspecting patients who need relief from pain, anxiety and depression. Very few people are suffering from psychosis which most of the aforementioned drugs are designed to treat.

How do I know this? I am a recovering prescription drug addict. Shocked? Surprised? Never would have suspected someone like me right? A church goer, Bible student, Cum Laude College graduate, hard worker, one who has always been able to hold down a job and be success in the workplace. Well now you know. I’ve come out from behind my mask. The mask I’ve been hiding behind since 1999 the year after my Mom Mable Palmer passed away. Nineteen Ninety Nine was the pivotal year when I made my descent down the rabbit hole of grief, depression, anxiety and pressure to get past the pain of my parents deaths which occurred within three years of each other. I had to keep the charade going. I could never reveal to anyone how really devastated I was by their untimely loss.

Nineteen Ninety Nine was the year I started seeing a psychiatrist. It started off well enough. At least I thought so in my troubled mind. She had me watch a video on mental illness, specifically bi-polar disorder, asked me a few questions then sent me into a journey and eventually a slide into the land of Happy Pills. What I probably most needed was a mild sedative and extensive talk therapy but no I received Celexa and eventually was promoted to stronger more debilitating prescription drugs.

Mind you because at the time I had a good job and good health insurance there was no problem in me obtaining in number or manner of pills to satisfy my growing reliance on these medications. In fact my doctor enabled me by reaching into one of her office drawers and dispensing free pills she had obtained from the many pharmaceutical agents who visited her offices, and most likely plied her with dinners, trips, etc…. if she would promote their “medications”.

What Dr. Pill Happy failed to ask me was if anyone in my family specifically my parents had any addictions. If she had asked me that I would have told her my mother was diagnosed with schizophrenia and was an alcoholic most of her adult life. But then again who knows, given the fact that the Big Pharma Drug Pushers were greasing her palms she would have ignored the obvious connection between my behavior and my mother’s and continued adult candy. Then again I can’t just blame this doctor, most doctors just indiscriminately dispense mind altering pills with little regard as to whether this will cause adverse reactions’ in their patients. I also blame myself. I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted to be ten feet tall all the time.

The only thing that stopped my downward slide was I lost my job in 2006 and my health benefits in 2007. Suddenly I had to confront the ugliness in my life and everything I hated about me. I couldn’t hide anymore. Not that I didn’t try. By 2008 I had a new job with its own particular stresses and pressures.

To bring this saga up to date within the last few years I’ve developed severe back, knee and foot pain. My current profession requires me to be on my feet over eight hours a day and the natural ravages of age and time have taken their toll on the lower half of my body. Many times the pain was so bad I couldn’t get out of bed to accomplish simple housework much less stand on my feet for eight hours. Not only was I taking medicine to combat pain I also had to take sleeping pills so I could at least get enough rest to deal with the daily challenges of the workplace. I was going to different doctors getting various prescriptions for physical pain. I took all my prescriptions’ to the same pharmacy. It would seem a large chain pharmacy would see that the combination of drugs I was taking would cause certain negative interactions within my body. They didn’t. At least once or twice within the last four years I nearly lost my life.

Finally I told myself I must climb out of the rabbit hole. I might be ten feet tall outside but inside I felt only two inches tall. I hurt not only physically but emotionally and mentally. The poison that I tried to suppress inside began to seep out. I knew I couldn’t hide behind the mask anymore. My problems lay not just with my parents’ deaths but with sexual abuse I suffered from the time I was 19 up to and including all the sexually abusive relationships I had been in until I was 48. Now I’m in the process of confronting my fears. This is not an easy journey. I’m in my 50s now. Life has definitely changed and not always for the better but change is the only constant in life. I’ve had to make many adjustments and accept my physical limitations. I may fall off the wagon during my journey but nobody’s perfect. But whether or not I have the mercy and compassion of people is neither here nor there. Most of all I have God’s mercy. I have God’s compassion because He knows what I’m going through. God has not judged me for mood swings or depression. This is an illness and I know when I get too tired to go on anymore God in His infinite mercy and wisdom will take me Home to Paradise.

I also knew I had to write this piece clean and sober. My Valentine’s Day piece was written while I was spaced out on Ambien. Strangely this piece was very well received. I mean I got a lot of great feedback from LinkedIn, Facebook & Twitter fans. At the same time all the adulation was scary because I knew I could continue as a functioning drug addict or I could make a clean break. As a chronic insomniac Ambien is a very difficult drug to break free from. Taken in its proper dosage you sleep. However take two pills instead of one your body sleeps but your subconscious is still awake, still able to function. In a psychedelic way Ambien has an effect of enhancing talents already residing within you but at the same time with the capacity to kill you. Obviously I don’t want to die but I do want to obliterate the emotional and psychological pain that threatens to rip apart my very soul. But the realization comes that pain can never be totally erased only dealt with on day by day basis. Small doses of healing dispensed over time.

No matter what I have fulfilled my purpose in life because I share this story with others, not for you to understand me but to at least have understanding and empathy others struggling along the rocky path of prescription addiction.

Many female legs responding to my erotica stories on Leda Huguette. The leggs in the forefront wish to befriend me. Along with the set of legs on both sides of yellow sister are going to develop wings on their feet and shoulders whereby I can climb up and fly away. We would all lay and caress for hours until a moan escaped and we’d have an excuse to clothe ourselves once more.

Rainbow Leggs

However before such fleet footed appendages appear at their ankles and upon their shoulder blades I tell them there is more way more in underground New York City that they must see. After plying with some of the most perfect Raki ever drunk in Turkey or the rest of Eastern Europe it doesn’t take much convincing on my part that the Troll Market was a must see in terms of underworld tourist sites.

Lilith meet us in Ankara through the bustling city streets and into the building where she and Dagmar labored insensibly through the day. In Ankara officials were often willing to over look necessary paperwork and allowed other documents not as urgently need to be stamped and passed through the never ending red tape.

Dagmar and me around her rather crowded but well organized laboratory. The results of all her experiments were catalogued and contained within glass jars abodes. Encased in one small silicate abode was a petite ballerina, her silk tutu just a bit longer than normal but still short enough that one could see the hair extending over her tiny delicate hooves. She performed an elegant pirouette to Pachelbel’s “Canon in D Major”. Each hoof nail was painted a bright pastel pink further enhancing her feminine qualities which could have been overshadowed by her animal lower half.

The Proposal

Stepping from the filthy foul smelling streets we were ushered into exotic elaborately decorated quarters decorated with expensive Persian rugs, medieval tapestries, silk draperies hung upon windowless walls, tables adorned with Tiffany lamps. A subtle scent of incense permeated the airways. The decorations seemed incongruous yet harmonized together in an irregular yet pleasing manner. Palatial taste a bit ostentatious like a Renaissance bordello. The furnishings were highly articulated and faceted Baroque/Rococo objects, many with deep gouges and gashes suggesting transparency and interior penetration. This room and much of the house as well as the street urchins who passed through seemed to us an Orientalist fantasy. At the far end of the living room hung a painting of a Minotaur raping a woman, this predilection of things to come.

Within this underworld in the Gumrok district known to westerners as the Expatriate district we met our sardonic intermediary in sex slave trade, the mirthless dwarf called,

Apep Angra Mainyu aka “The Snake”. Angra had the face of Peter Lorre and the heft and bulk of a miniaturized Sidney Greenstreet. Apep Angra was scurrilous and scrofulous. His rough skin was spotted with scabies and his body emitted a sepulchral odor.

Angra’s manciple Alva Ahriman was the bodily opposite of his master. Ahriman was six feet tall of bulging muscles, narrow waist and sculpted buttocks. His lack of moral fiber and somewhat limited intellectual faculties innate in most normal human personalities could be easily perceived in his cranial structure and his overall physiognomy. The shock of wild reddish brown hair closely cut on the sides of the head, the high sloping forehead, prominent brow ridges, receding nostrils and thin lips, these features put one in mind of a simian head attached to the body of Atlas. Alva’s nature embodied the seven deadly sins from head to foot.

Passing Through the RED

Despite stunted academic capabilities that could be called into question, Alva had been well trained by Angra and daily attempted to enhance what little he had been granted through unholy experimentation by careful observation of Angra’s hidden lifestyle and techniques. Alva’s bedchambers which were divided into three sections one being the actual room where he slept on an ornate Italian Renaissance canopy bed replete with seraphim, cherubim, and putti on the ceiling looking down seemingly blessing the lewd acts committed in that bed.

However outside of Angra, my wife and myself and the poor unfortunate girls who had the bad fortune to see this mockery of sex and religion, Alva barred even the household servants from entering that portion of his rooms. In fact he took responsibility for cleaning his quarters and putting outside the door soiled bed sheets and remnants of any meals partaken within. Upon entrance it at first resembled an Italian studiolo. Scholarly books that he never read, save those dealing with what he felt was the “new science of photography” lined the bookshelves along the walls. There was a collection of opera records beside the Victrola, which he played incessantly even during he was engaged in some vile sexual act with any of the young girls that came to the bawdy house. In fact during those escapades the music became louder more than likely to mask his grunts and groans plus those of his victims.

Angra seeing how fascinated Alva was with photography gifted him with camera and outfitted the third segment of Alva’s rooms with a photography studio and darkroom. Alva was creative in the sense that he stole items from the main bordello in order to outfit his photo studio into period pieces where he photographed the girls before he had sex with them. After developing the pictures he would catalogue each prize in a book complete with a name he gave her in addition to her measurements and any outstanding physical features. The girls were pretty much always naked save for sparse clothing items that Alva felt made superior her breasts, buttocks or genital area. Alva often requested and received more than one girl from the bordello and had them pleasure each other in the pictures while he shot them in various poses.

Fringes

Another one of Alva’s prized possessions in addition to his camera was his stereopticon or “magic lantern” in which his bevy of beauties were preserved for eternity on slides which at first Alva just arranged randomly but over time he began to place the slides in logical order to create pornographic narratives. The stereopticon was for his personal pleasure but even that proved not enough and eventually Alva convinced Angra to give him rudimentary film equipment that he rigged up next to his bed to document his demented exploits with the accursed young women.

Often while Alva was arranging the photos in his scrapbook or creating slides from them for the stereopticon he would play his favorite three operas from Richard Wagner; The Valkyrie,Tristan und Isolde and Parsifal. Later these same three operas would be piped into the castle during Alva’s unholy alliances with Leonara and later, much later the blessed houri Evie.

In time while exploring the lower portions of the house we found a sealed entry way through which we could hear the sounds of a type of market. We decided to get a guy name Psycho Kinesis to open that door, the door that would reveal an alternate universe we had been searching for so long.

Zombie Sushi

At first Big Red wants to try his door opening method which is smashing the door in by brute force. Red tries and it doesn’t work only leaving him with a very sore cut up fist. Next one in our group Captain Nebulizer where he just released the latest in technology. Smoke ascended out of his uniform but in a structured manner only waiting to here the orders emanating from his lips. The ether obeyed — a series of locks were undone and a large doorway swung open to a scene that I only remembered from the bar scene in Star Wars but much more grungy.

The Troll Market opens out from Ankara into it current location under the Brooklyn Bridge. It is revealed to be a veritable bacchanalia of mythological, fantasy, and supernatural creatures from all over the world, mainly attracting dragons. The Troll market is the living proof of extraterrestrial/human evolution. On the other end of it is a Dive bar where human evolution coupled with Abstract Expression gave birth to foreverlazy.com

In the back of the club Mr. Magoo lead the way being followed by the others.Patsy Cline, Barry White, Luther Vandross, Aailyah, Missy Elliot, The LeVerts, Mary J. Blige, Sammy Davis Jr. all got together to sing Beautiful Freaks — http://www.jango.com/stations/28

Confind Man

When the Valentines Day party got into the groove along came Iceberg Slim, RalphEllison,

But I’m a beautiful freak with a heart shaped butt that Eiko can’t stop caressing, touching and hugging. Eiko swears she going to immortalize by my ass in stone and call it the Great BaDonkadonk. My BaDonkadonk would be a national treasure wining awards and accolades worldwide from fitness gurus and the most prefect ass ever.

Love is building the bridge between others in our lives. Putting our
arms around a loved ones broken dreams, broken spirits and telling them
it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to be scared. It’s okay to embrace
the pain both physical and emotional. I’m cut. I’m weak. I’m bleeding
but I’m still me.

See my scars of battle? Will you rub salt in my
wounds or will you apply the balm of Gilead all the while being
nonjudgmental and carry me to the house of the good Samaritan.

All I ask is compassion in my moments of fragility and to be allowed
to cry. I love you still the same. God still loves you. God does not
require to name & claim, proclaim and affirm, blab it and grab it,
scream or yell, or beat down Heaven’s door, he only requires that you
go through while he is holding your hand.

He will hold your hand through the tempest, the fire, from this broken
shattered life into the next world. My child find rest from this veil
of tears. Well Done thou good and faithful servant.